


Bubble, bubble

by neevebrody



Category: Donald Strachey Mysteries (Movies)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bubble Bath, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-13
Updated: 2013-11-13
Packaged: 2018-01-01 09:43:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1043347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neevebrody/pseuds/neevebrody
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Don has to choose: bubblebath blow-job or plumbing repair…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bubble, bubble

**Author's Note:**

> Written as birthday fic for the wonderful Squidgiepdx

"I'm home, sweetheart!"

Coming into the kitchen, Don covered his nose, swallowing hard and clearing his throat to quell his unease. "Ugh! Timothy, babe…"

The cupboards under the sink stood open and bottles of various cleaners sat neatly arranged on the floor alongside garbage bags and several large flower vases. The bucket beneath the sink trap seemed to be the source of the foul odor. Timmy knelt in front of it, shirtsleeves rolled to his elbows and quietly grumbling like the teddy bear he was.

"Jesus, did something crawl in here and die… that's awful."

When Timothy straightened, Don grinned at the sour look, the flushed red cheeks, and the way his husband gripped the small plunger in his pink-vinyl-gloved fist. The sink trap wasn't nearly as cute, with some sort of dark sludge smeared around the now-disjointed pipes and a trickle of dingy water emptying into the bucket.

"Oh, baby," Don said, getting closer to offer a hug. But Timmy stopped him cold.

"Don't! I smell like a sewer," he said pointedly, handing Don the plunger. "You fix it. I'm going upstairs to shower… for about a week."

Don held his arms up and backed away. "Oh, no. I just spent the last hour and a half listening to Bub Bailey spin fishing tales about the ones that got away and looking at cell phone photos of the ones that didn't. Kenny was in rare form today, and this is my third week without a new client. All I wanted was to come home and have a bubble bath and a martini with my favorite guy."

Timmy blinked, brows furrowing for a moment. "I'm your _only_ guy."

Don took the plunger and placed it gently inside the sink. "Yes. Yes, you are," he said, wiping his hand on his pants, "and I need some of your special attention in the worst way. So let's you and me…" He helped Timmy off with the vinyl gloves and tossed them in with the plunger. "Hey, how come you didn't call Alison—the plumbing should still be under warranty or something, right?" He took Timmy by the shoulders, turned him around, and steered him toward the staircase.

"I tried. She and Bobby Jo are away for a Dykes on Bikes Rainbow Poker Run for the weekend – or so her voice mail says. I thought you were… handy with that sort of thing."

"I'm a PI, honey, not a plumber." He slid his hands down to cage Timmy's hips as he climbed the stairs. "First a bubble bath and then we can play Queer Eye for the DIY Guy, k?"

"And the martinis?"

Don had no intention of going back downstairs; he had Timmy this close to naked and bubbles and he wasn't about to lose any ground. "We'll just have to settle for the wine in the mini-fridge," he replied, peeling off his shirt and barely missing the hamper. He bent down to open the built in cooler in the bathroom.

"My, my… what a lovely view."

"It gets better." Don wiggled his fanny as he uncorked the bottle of white wine. He filled two chilled glasses and, handing Timmy his, made a throaty toast, savoring the look in Timmy's eyes.

The water was hot enough to be comfortable and still strip off the layer of "gross" Timmy said he could feel on his skin. Timmy's mouth, full and sweet, tasted of the wine, their kiss skating out of control easily enough. Don made sure of it, but he hadn't expected his lover to turn the tables.

Large enough to hold both of them, Don hadn't filled the tub to soaking depth, just enough for them to get slippery. Timothy lay between Don's legs, crotch to crotch, and holding on to the tub rim behind Don's head. Slippery was good. Timmy's mouth on Don's neck was good, purring sweet little nothings into Don's ear while gripping them both with a soap-slicked hand.

It was what he'd needed all day – all week! To be with Timmy, away from everything else that jockeyed to claim precious pieces of their time together. Don was one lucky son-of-a-bitch, and he thanked his stars every day for someone as caring and genuine as Timmy Callahan – and as gorgeous – someone who loved him, rough edges, fucked psyche, the whole nine.

"Sweetheart, you keep that up and you're gonna finish me."

Timmy smiled. The kind of smile that could reach inside Don's chest and close its hand around Don's heart. "That was the idea, Donald."

Nope. Not before Don could show his guy _why_ he was the only one. He eased Timmy back, switching their positions. He blew some bubbles from Timmy's knee and planted a kiss in the bare spot before nipping down Timmy's thigh to his cock, hard and waiting.

Timmy tasted the same every time – like a promise, like giving yourself a gift and not feeling it undeserved. And Don knew just how to work him – long, slow licks to tease, rubbing the swollen head around his mouth, and lipping over the ridge, lingering over the tiny knot of nerves before taking him all the way in, feeling Timmy grow even more in his mouth. Deep pulls that raised his lover's hips and sent the room echoing with comingled sounds of pleasure.

They moved in sync, a cause and effect they played out time and time again but that never got old, only better. Timmy knew just when to put his hands in Don's hair to let Don know he was ready. Don felt it – thighs straining, muscles tightening, Timmy's breath sucked in and then held as Don added his hand, bringing Timmy closer and closer with each stroke, and closer still until Timmy bucked his hips, until he barked out Don's name in a raspy breath that tugged at Don's balls, and finally, until Timothy gave himself over to Don in the warm rush between them.

Don stayed with Timmy, gentling him, licking and kissing until, growing sensitive, Timmy nudged him away. Kissing his way over cooling, damp skin, Don cooed his own nothings… like a nice warm fire and getting into bed and filling Timmy up like never before.

They dried each other off sitting at the foot of the bed. Don had refilled their wine and Timmy, wrinkling his nose, wondered aloud if they might survive the next few days on white wine and butter mints, or perhaps just staying in bed.

Don kissed him again. "As long as you leave me out of any excuses to the Senator," he beamed, tipping his glass.

 

~fin~


End file.
